The mother-in-law hid Sam's office dog bed after it was washed. Gah! I think she hid it because she thinks the dog is spending too much time in the office, when he should be outside, getting fresh air.

This reminded me of how she hid the blender last summer after I started making smoothies and wild garlic pesto. Even though I cleaned it after each use, she would insist it was never clean enough, and that it was a pain to clean, etc., so one day, it disappeared, and I have never seen it again. Gah!

I want to move so badly. Like, I want to be able to do things like normal adults in their 40s, like use the iron (the holy grail to the mother-in-law, not even her son is allowed to touch it), or not sneak a load of laundry when she's away at mass (because, you guessed it, only she can use the washing machine properly—and yes, I look up mass times regularly so I know when she's out of the house), or keep plants in the house (contrary to mother-in-law logic, they do not suck oxygen out of the air). I look longingly at my bed linen in the guest bedrooms, and growl at her ugly bed linen in mine. Of course I put up with it. I am, after all, living in her house. I don't want to cause a stir, but today I'm fed up with it!

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